


Beautiful Stranger

by strawberrywine17



Series: How Familiar the Danger [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Fairies, Fantasy, Future depictions of violence, Long term investment fic, M/M, Medieval, Misleading first chapter, also Feliciano is a little shit, there will be other pairings but even I don't know what they are yet lmao, very much spamano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrywine17/pseuds/strawberrywine17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard as a poor peasant living in a tiny cottage with two other men. Antonio, the hunter of the trio, frequently crosses over into the King's forest in search of the food they can't legally afford. Only, not everything in that forest is normal. He's only ever heard of fairies through rumors of the wealth they bring and from stories told by his mother- and is totally unprepared to meet one in the middle of the woods.</p><p>Now the only decision Antonio has to make is whether he'd rather have the money he's always lacked, or the love he's always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Men, One House

**Author's Note:**

> It's been too long since I last wrote a fic longer than three parts. What better what to break that than by writing a spamano fic?
> 
> Also, apologies for the first 4-5 paragraphs. I wrote them at midnight, and I'm too lazy to go back back and fix it.

Fairy tales were not made to be pretty. Cinderella did not marry her prince before her sisters slashed off parts of their feet to fit into the slipper; Little Red Riding Hood was swallowed by the wolf before the lumberjack cut her out of its stomach. The stories are meant to be lessons, warnings to the children who read them. The same is true here. And yet, this is not an average tale.

After all, Antonio was not a prince. He didn't retain a large tract of land, didn't live in a castle. He bossed no servants, lorded over no riches, fed himself on no feasts. In fact, Antonio lived in a very small house, owned by the noble that claimed the land, which in turn belonged to the monarch of the kingdom.

No, see, the place Antonio where lived was tiny and held two rooms. One side had a meager table with four chairs (two room which didn't match the others) and a small fireplace, and the other was reserved for three small cots and a chest at the foot of each of them. He lived there with his two best friends, all three of them having fallen on hard times.

Antonio, in short, wasn't happy with those conditions. Not many people would be. The only solace he could find was that the other two had jobs and so were gone much of the day, and while he didn't have one, he did have the task of getting them food. For it, the fourth, unneeded chair was stationed in the corner and was where he now sat, sharpening the tips to his arrows he would take soon to hunt. The motions were concise and controlled, the only noise the crackling of the fire and the glide of stone over metal. And, unfortunately, the rumblings of his stomach. The forest had brought no luck to him for the past three days and they only had enough money to make flour cakes.

If he had a choice, Antonio would set them all up with their own house. They didn't have to be big, no, but something that could sustain them, and that they could always have at least a small bit of money to run off of from there. Alas, it was not his choice, and so he kept sharpening, bow leaning against his other thigh.

Before long, he heard the telltale sounds of life from inside the other room. The familiar voices of his companions was a tune he was accustomed to- after all, no matter how surprising, he was the one who usually woke first. First came Francis, his blonde hair a mess atop his head, but his eyes bright and ready for the day.

He came over and ruffled Antonio’s hair affectionately. “Morning, Toni,” he beamed, an ever present sweetness in his voice. No matter how bad things got, he always seemed willing to cheer them all up, telling stories of when he had been rich, filling their heads with dreams of gallantry and a life of ease. That wasn't going to come, of course, but he didn't give up giving them hope. “What’s for breakfast?”

The Spaniard let him play with his hair for a second before shaking his head. “Nothing you'd like. Cakes again, like usual.” His lips twitched up when he heard the resulting groan, not phased in the slightest. It wasn't like this morning was any different than any other. Antonio watched for a moment as Francis readied a mixture of flour and oil, then began to heat a pan on which to cook them. The only grace Antonio could find was that the blonde had a small stack of spices beside the hearth, and while the cakes were sometimes still hard to swallow, they went down a lot easier with that tiny bit of taste.

It was another few moments before Gilbert came stumbling out. Antonio only needed one look at the man’s ruffled hair, careful steps, and the hand pressed to his head to know exactly how he had gone to bed. A frown took away his contented look. “Gil,” he said accusingly, staring at him. “You came home drunk, didn't you?”

The albino scoffed at him, but not very loudly. “Of course I did. What the hell do you expect? If we’re stuck in this heaven forsaken hellhole we might as well eat, drink, and be merry about it. I'm sure you'll manage to get something for us to eat to complete that circle.” He seemed undeterred by Antonio’s disapproval, tugging down his light red tunic.

It was only by grace that the three of them didn't have to wear brown rucksack like most of the other peasants; a lucky couple of weeks had led to them getting a small amount of dye. While their pants remained the normal brown, and their boots varying color only because of the different feet in them, each managed to have a separate color tunic. Gilbert’s was red, Francis blue, and Antonio green. Francis’ ties that held the neckline closed was always very loose, Antonio wore a small cross made by Gilbert around his neck, and the albino himself seemed to have a permanent litany of bruises peeking out from the hem from his frequent bar fights. Those were pretty much the only variations in their clothes one to another. In a word, being so poor was disgusting.

“Mon dieu. How are we supposed to save our money for a better home or for food when you keep spending it all on alcohol?” Francis accused, turning to wave a finger at him. The tension began to grow between the three of them, something that happened very frequently, but luckily usually never got out of hand. “I would like to eat something more than this meager little thing!” He shook the bowl before pouring it onto the little skillet, making three circles.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, plopping down into one of the two matching chairs. “We've been living in this little hovel for over two years now, and plus, we have that stupid fucking creep up on the hill lording over us and making us pay him monthly.”

Antonio spoke up then. “That was your own fault. If you had minded your own business, and maybe not been drunk, we wouldn't be trying to pay back a burned down stable. We’re very lucky that we were not all three strung up for that stunt.” Gilbert didn't reply, settling instead for grumbling to himself and using the ladle settled in the bucket of clean water on the table to take a drink. Antonio didn't envy the man; he must have drunk more than just a little to induce such a quiet morning.

“Strung up? You really think that yellow belly would have us strung up? The idiot can’t stand the sight of an animal being by itself, and you really think he’d off us?”

“No. But I do think that if he had reported it to the king, then we _definitely_  would be dead right now.”

Gilbert glanced at him, scoffed a little, but didn’t deny it. Francis kept his mouth shut, not even having the grace to interrupt. After all, they all knew he was right. Had word reached the king only a city away, there would have been a guaranteed death- whether that was just Gilbert or all three of them, bloodshed would have been the only outcome.

Silence pervaded then, only interrupted by the soft licking of flames on wood, the sizzle of the cooking cakes, and the rhythmic thumping of Antonio fitting the arrowheads onto the sticks he had whittled. Minutes passed before Francis turned from the hearth. He held the skillet in one hand and a small bundle of plates in the other, spreading them out on the table. A little shake of the pan for each person awarded a single cake onto each plate. Gilbert grabbed the stack of plates by the pail and set them out, doing his job of pouring the water in each. They couldn't even afford milk for their breakfast. It was embarrassing, really, but considering they didn't exactly have much correspondence with anyone else- at least in the sense to be friends with them- it wasn't a surprise that they were going without even charity.

“Antonio, mon cher, put those things down and come eat,” Francis coaxed, pushing the former’s plate a little closer to his side. There was a worried crinkle in his brow, gentle eyes not swaying from his friend.

Antonio, however, waved a hand. He ran the file down the metal tip of the arrow (having metal instead of wood was one of the few graces he could glean from flirting with the blacksmith’s sister) one more time before standing. Each arrow was fit into a material sling, that of which was pulled onto his shoulder. The bow, a beautiful thing carved of red oak, went over his head and under an arm, settling nicely against his side. “No, no! You two split that. If I make a catch today, I'll take a portion and a half when we cook it. Sounds good, sì?”

Francis didn't look happy about that, but sighed. They might have been friends, but all of them were stubborn; once their mind was set on something, they couldn't easily be persuaded. “Alright,” he nodded. “If you really want to do that, then I can't stop you.” Stepping over to him, the blonde patted his cheek. “Come home safely.”

“Yeah!” Gilbert chimed in, putting a hand in front of his lips to hide the mouthful of food he’d already tore from the cake, trying to be semi polite. “Come home quickly!”

Antonio only gave a laugh as he slipped out the door, the beginnings of dawn illuminating the sky in brilliant pinks and reds, blooming over the walls that surrounded the village. The town was just barely waking up, and so he had no problems slipping through the contorted, winding streets and to the gates. The guards there had no problem letting him through, used to his daily coming and going, and in just a few strides he transitioned from hard working, sweat drenched air, to a luscious green, peaceful atmosphere.

The sweet aroma of the trees filled his lungs as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, before starting along a narrow, foot trampled path, ready to start hunting.

\---

The sun was high in the sky before Antonio had any luck. The sweltering heat was driving any sane creature into shadows and burrows and the protecting leaves of trees, leaving almost no trace behind for him to follow. Even so, he was very skilled after all this time. That shred of opportunity was all he needed, and though sweat was dripping down his back by the time he found it, he managed to discover fresh tracks from a deer. Without a thought, he began to follow the hoofprints.

It crossed his mind for a moment that technically, if he caught the deer, it could be construed as poaching. After all, it had been about mid morning that he had crossed the ravine that separated public lands from Royal lands. It wasn't the first time he had done this before, however, knowing the king didn't very often hunt in this particular section of woods. Why? He didn't know. Did he care? Not really.

The gentle scent of the forest and the morning dew had turned more rotting as the day had wore on, a natural smell of the forest breaking down what was dead and dying beneath its leaves in order to found new life. The longer Antonio followed the trail, the more prominent it became, until all of a sudden, he stepped across a line of mushrooms, and it was just… Gone. It was as though the stench had never been present in the first place. Not only that, but his ears tuned in to the sound of rushing water, as though from a heavy river.

This was strange. Antonio couldn't remember ever finding an area like this before in all his other excursions to this side of the forest. The colors of the leaves, the ferns, the occasional blossoms seemed more brilliant now, purer almost. A strange feeling descended upon him like a cloak; he was not meant to witness whatever lay beyond that line. Nevertheless, Antonio was Antonio, and he pushed forward anyway, curious, the deer (and the sudden disappearance of its tracks) forgotten.

The light was at first brighter than the rest of the woods, but the further he went towards the sound of the water, the darker it became. No gloom was cast upon the world for it though; it was more like candles being snuffed out one by one as a prelude to a warm summer night. The darkness didn't reach that of the night, but the Spaniard could have sworn it was late afternoon instead of midday.

Each step he took brought him closer and closer to the sound of water. It grew until he was certain he was perhaps thirty feet away, and that was when he heard the singing. Soft, gentle tones floated through the air, a voice contorted into sounds and words he could never hope to understand. The melody, lilting and lifting and dropping, was enchanting, beckoning him closer. Something about it hinted at danger, but Antonio paid no mind.

Finally, finally, he reached the last line of trees. As quietly as he could, employing the same tactics as normally used when stalking prey, he pressed his chest to a thick trunk and peered around it. What Antonio saw was nothing short of shocking.

A river, rich and full and sparkling with crystal clear water cut a path through the earth in a place Antonio never saw recorded on any maps. Crimson bell top flowers bloomed around the banks, crooked over the water, swaying gently in the soft breeze. But that wasn't what had Antonio frozen, eyes glued to one spot, his fingers digging into the bark of the tree.

Naught but perhaps fifteen feet away was a man kneeling by the river. No- not a man. A fairy. With green, tight leggings, a flowing shirt that was belted at the waist and the sleeves sewed tight around the wrists to prevent the billowing fabric from slipping off his hands, and a silver necklace dangling from his throat, the fairy was beautiful. The shirt was cut with slits in the back where two pairs of wings sprouted from. They were huge, Persian blue and shaped like those from a swallowtail butterfly. Black created a thick rim around the edges of the wings and made a latticework through the membrane. Antonio hardly blinked and was glad he didn't; the fairy bent forward towards the stream, and the blue turned azure, shimmering its change in the dappled sunlight from the canopy.

It was with considerable effort that he forced his gaze away from those beautiful things. The fairy’s skin was darker than most at the town, but still lighter than Antonio’s own, and his hair was shiny, seeming almost tinged red at times depending on how much light touched it. A funny little curl bobbed up from one side. It prompted a tiny smile from Antonio.

The fairy’s hands, which had been dipped in the water, raised. Instead of them cupped, however, they were separated, a bubble of water suspended between his palms. It was pressed to the creature’s lips and he drank, seemingly pleased by the rich quality of the river.

His ears were pointed slightly. They were not so exaggerated as Antonio remembered his mother speaking of them as, but then again, she had told of fairies that fit between fingers, that used thread spools for tables and thimbles for chairs. This fairy… He was as large as any normal human, completely at ease with his surroundings. It was a beautiful sight…

But now Antonio had a choice.

A sick feeling sunk into his stomach as he realized the decision that had to be made here. Fairy wings- if he had a way to take them from this creature and take them to the king, he and his friends would immediately jump straight to noble status. The process would not be hard. Much of a fairy’s magic was stored in those wings, and there were only two ways to preserve that magic away from the creature itself.

The first option was ghastly. The fairy had to live through the whole procedure, strapped down, a saw taken to the appendages. Antonio had not heard of any living more than a day without them. He also was very sure he would never use that method.

The second was better, but not by much. Still, the fairy had to live, but this way was much easier, if only for the person taking away the wings all Antonio needed to do, in theory, was find a hemlock plant, incapacitate or trap the fairy, make them drink or eat something stained with the poison, and then cut off the wings once paralysis had set in. The fairy would still be conscious, completely aware of what would be happening- but there would be no struggle, as death would come soon after the removal of the wings, not hours later due to infections, trauma, or exhaustion.

Antonio knew these things. Hell, a neighboring noble had gone through the second option- that was why he was a noble in the first place. Knees feeling weak, he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough that he could taste copper on his tongue. He only had one chance here, one decision, and despite the way a brick of ice had settled in his stomach, he knew what he needed to do for the good of himself, Francis, and Gilbert.

Antonio was not one for senseless killing, but he had to do what he had to do. As silently as before, he drew away from the tree, and reached for an arrow from the sling on his back. He wasn't going to waste his opportunity. 


	2. Not Greedy

It was the last arrow left. Antonio let his hand surpass the dangerous metal tip in order to grab onto the wood. Pulling it out, he held it firm, his gaze never leaving the fairy. Tanned fingers curled around it, and slowly, he stepped from the line of trees, out into the open. The arrow was notched into the bow, the string pulled back, Antonio’s eyes following the line of flight it would take. Incapacitation was all he was going for, but had he wanted to, he knew he could pierce straight through his heart.

Only… As the seconds ticked by, Antonio still hadn’t moved. The fairy had finished his bubble of water, and was reaching for a second, the magic tangible in the air. In his mind’s eye, he could see what his arrow would do. What kind of damage it would inflict. In an instant, the fragile beauty would shatter. The white shirt would soak with red, there’d be a cry, perhaps heart wrenching, and the rasping, wet breaths that wouldn’t stop until Antonio had managed to find a hemlock plant.

He couldn’t do it like that. Never like that.

Slowly, to prevent any backlash, he released the tension on the string until the arrow fell loose. To his frustration, as he went to set it and his bow on the ground, a branch snapped under his boot. The fairy’s head whipped around. A startled yelp not much different than the one he had imagined fell from plump, pink lips, wings fluttering in panic as he stood. Antonio was too far away to see his eyes clearly, but the little twitchy movements betrayed his attempts at finding somewhere to hide, to leave, to  _ get away _ from the threat.

“Wait!” Antonio called out. He dropped both parts to the weapon, stepping over them, leaving them on the ground. “Wait, please! I’m not going to hurt you! I promise, please, just- just wait!”

The fairy’s brow dipped down into a scowl, but it didn't mar on his beauty. “Why?” the creature shouted back, voice smooth as the finest silk, anger and fear tainting the edges. “So you can kill me?” His wings fluttered nervously.

Putting his hands up in an effort to show he meant no harm, Antonio stepped to the side to give a pathway to the weapons. “No. My bow and my arrow is only for animals that I will eat. You can take them if you'd like; I only request that when I be on my way, I have them back, so that I may get food for my friends and I.”

Hesitation kept the fairy where he was, flickers of emotions interrupting his features. He walked forward eventually to scoop up the items. Antonio swore he could reach out and touch his wings if he so chose; he didn't, opting instead to keep his hands up and in plain sight. The fairy turned the bow in his hands, inspecting the wood, before retreating back out of Antonio’s proximity.

“Why are you here?” he asked, clutched the items to his chest protectively. “And who are you? Don't you know that this is the King’s forest? You'd risk death for a deer a little more plump than the ones on your side of the ravine?”

Now that was interesting. All of what Antonio had been told of fairies was that they were not of the human world- they isolated themselves, grew without humans. He had believed them ignorant of many of the customs and practices of the land. And yet here was one spelling out the law, the boundaries, and the consequences with no prodding whatsoever. His mother had spoken much about the creatures, but there had only been one time she had spoke of them concerning humans. This was not one of the topics covered.

Despite that, he tried to hide his shock. The Spaniard really didn’t want to exploit his own minimal knowledge of the other species. “There are few animals on the other side,” he explained calmly, giving the fairy a small, reassuring smile. “It’s far from the bountiful food and forest over here. There is a reason it’s the king’s land. In any case, I have an ultimatum. Either I stay on the other side of the ravine and risk starving myself and my friends to death, or I come over here and risk the king finding me and sentencing me to death. Death is death, but I’d rather only risk one life than three.”

It was hard not to stare when the fairy, obviously not expecting a response like that, fluttered his wings open and closed in almost a nervous gesture. Though the shade was plentiful and offered a reproach from the harsh sun, some still made it through, and reflected off of the delicate membranes to cast sparkling blue tones all over the ground. “...I see.” His voice brought Antonio’s eyes back to his face. “But I still don’t understand why you thought it was a smart idea to cross my ring.”

“Your ring?”

A little bit of anger broke out as the top contending emotion on his face. “Yes,  _ my ring. _ My boundary, my wall. If you were tracking an animal, you would have seen it on the ground. You must be one of the more stupid humans; most do not cross a circle of mushrooms when they see them.”

Oh. That was what it had been. But still- “I thought fairy rings were only about a meter or so across?”

He scoffed, and Antonio was able to catch a glimpse of those dark eyes. It was like looking at a tree- most of the iris was comprised of cedar brown hues, but then a vague ring of dark green encircled the pupil. It was… It was beautiful, and in all honesty, Antonio wanted to see more of it. Luckily, the fairy seemed irritated by his answer, and took the liberty of stepping forward, coming just a little bit closer to the hunter. “It’s meant to be a protection,” he explained, tone taking on an irritated lilt. “Do I look like I want to be protected by that small of a wall? Idiot bastard.”

He laughed. Antonio couldn’t help himself. Everything he had heard, everything he had envisioned, had been elegant, eloquent fairies with a connection to nature and a hatred for all things disgusting and crude. Yet here was one, in the flesh, spouting off insults to a man that knew very well how to kill him. Or, at least, injure him, considering he knew Antonio had hunting tools.

It was humorous to him but not to the fairy. “Hey!” he protested loudly, brows crinkling together, hands tightening. “What are you laughing at? I didn’t say anything funny!”

“No, please, don’t take it as anything bad,” Antonio said quickly, his smile bright. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so honesty with no hint of bitterness to it or the situation. “I’m just- I haven’t ever heard of fairies being so… So vulgar.” He watched as the creature paused and blinked. Worrying he had offended him, he added, “Sorry, I just don’t know much about your kind.”

The fairy let his hands fall to his side, keeping the weapons in his grasp. His shoulders tilted up, eyes falling off of Antonio’s face. “Yeah, well… I don’t know that much about humans either,” he admitted, quieter than before.

A moment of silence passed between them. Antonio chewed on his lips; he didn’t want the other leave, and he needed to know more. There seemed to be nothing in common between them except perhaps their distinct ignorance of each other’s cultures and lives. So, taking a chance, he stretched out his hand, offering it to the fairy.

“My name is Antonio.”

When those beautiful eyes turned back to his face, he could see confusion and uncertainty swimming in the depths. He couldn't blame him. After all, they were diametric opposites; had he been in the fairy’s shoes, he would have been just as cautious.

It was a slow movement when he finally reached out and clasped his forearm, an old custom that Antonio only saw anymore with nobility. That made him impossibly more curious, but he followed suite, smoothly grasping the expanse of arm offered to him. They shook once, twice. “Lovino,” the fairy replied. “My name’s Lovino.”

His smile brightened as their hands fell. “Lovino,” he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. “I like that.” Surprisingly, pink dusted across the fairy’s nose, and he shrugged a bit. Antonio thought it was kind of cute. It reminded him of a child being praised after doing something they were told to do correctly.

“Yeah, well… Yours isn’t half bad either.” Lovino looked around for just a second, seeming to internally fight with himself, before he bent. The bow and arrow were placed on the ground, and he stayed down to pluck one of the bell flowers. He stood again, and offered the flower out to Antonio. “Here,” he said. “It’s… It’s connected to my magic. I have to leave, but if you ever want to talk to me again… Just go where the flower guides.”

Antonio tilted his head as he took it. “Guide?” he asked, confused.

Brows furrowing in irritation, Lovino nodded. “Yes, guide. It's not that hard to figure out. But only come near nighttime. Any other time would take to you not just me, but others that would not hesitate to kill you. You might be an idiot, but you're an interesting one.” He paused for a moment. “Now go.”

This was… Unexpected. But it wasn’t unwelcome. Antonio picked up his bow and slung it over his shoulders, then placed the arrow back in its quiver. Fingers light against the stem of the flower, he nodded. “I’ll see you again soon!” he promised. With a bit of a laugh at the way Lovino rolled his eyes, he turned and started walking away. There was no way Gilbert and Francis would believe him.

Thoughts filled his head. He hadn’t killed the fai- no, Lovino- but why? He had his chance, felt the weight of cash and fine clothes and the promise of a proper roof over his head, but in that split second, he just couldn’t go through with it. Everything he could have ever wanted… And he had let it slip through his fingers, all for what? Because the method to it was too cruel?

Agh, what was he thinking? Antonio rubbed his forehead. He  _ couldn’t _ tell Francis and Gilbert. They would  _ kill _ him. And really, he couldn’t blame them. They had a perfectly valid reason to be furious. If the situation were reversed, it would probably be the same way. And the thing was, it probably would have been as easy as skinning a deer, or something of the like. That simply, and he'd thrown it away.

...Or maybe not.

So caught up in his berating was he that it was only now he looked down at the flower. He had gone a considerable distance away, and in that time, the bells had grown drab, the color seeming to drip as the paints of a canvas splashed with water. The stalk was withered and bent, the vibrant emerald glow gone. That wasn't right. Flowers did not decay that quickly; they lasted, Antonio knew they did, if only for a few days or so. It was… It was weird. If this was how the flower was supposed to guide him, it didn’t make any sense to him.

Maybe if he hurried back to Lovino, he would provide a reason for this!

Turning back, Antonio lightly jogged back the way he had come. However, he came to an abrupt halt not mere moments later; he could have sworn that the flower wasn’t as brown. He blinked rapidly, continued forward a few more yards, and watched as the slightest of colors bled back into the petals. Suddenly, it made a lot more sense. The further he got from Lovino, the more it would die. The closer, the more it would come to life. For some reason, that seemed rather endearing.

Antonio gave a small back. He turned round for a second time and started home. No, he couldn’t tell Gilbert and Francis, but he at least had some consolation for it. Another visit to Lovino was all he could ask for, if he wasn’t going to kill him. Not… Not yet, anyway. There was no reason to throw away a chance to learn before he took the riches that would await him. To do anything else would be a foolish, stupid idea.

And Antonio liked to think he wasn’t foolish at all.

{...}

The sun had set by the time Antonio returned to the city. He walked through the gates with nothing but the flower tucked into his quiver. The guards nodded at him before they gave the signal to those in the battlements to start closing the gates. No one else was willing to be out any later than him, and so it had become sort of a routine, much like his mornings he left.

He, of course, returned the gesture, and made his way back to his home. What awaited him was not something he had expected- not for a few more days, at least.

Outside of the little hovel were two large guards, puffed up and muscular. Antonio’s footsteps faltered, but he forced himself to walk forward anyway, his features hardening. “Ah, excuse me!” he said loudly, tapping on one of the men’s shoulders. They turned to face him, their own expressions hidden under the garb of the lord of the land’s armor. “This is my home. I would appreciate it if I could know why you’re right in front of it.”

The voice that came from the guard he had touched was gravely, sounding more used to silent duty against some doorway than any real action. “We’re here to collect for our lord. He is still expecting payment; he wants you to know that if you don’t pay soon, the lot o’ ya will be thrown into the stockades.”

Stockades were not fun. This wouldn’t have been the first time, and it likely wouldn’t be his last, if the threat were to be carried out. “Well, then you have to let me through and get the money,  sì? Otherwise I can do nothing to help him.” They grunted with acknowledgement, and stepped aside. He dropped his bow and quiver by the chair he had sat in earlier that morning, and went to the bedroom, praying to any god that would listen that the men wouldn’t follow.

They didn’t, but he had a new reason to pray once he saw Gilbert and Francis whispering to each other, hiding in the corner of the room.

“Hey!” he hissed lowly. Two heads spun to see him, two hands gesturing him over. Obeying reluctantly, he frowned at the both of them. “What’s going on? I thought we didn’t have to have a payment for half a fortnight! And were you two just hiding in here? Do those brutes even know this is where you are?”

Francis coughed lightly, shuffling his foot against the dirt. “Ah, no, Toni. Apparently, Gilbert misread the letter. I just found it today, and it turns out it  _ is _ due.” He put his hand out when Antonio shot a look at the albino. “It isn’t his fault, really. And he’s very sorry. Aren’t you?” Gilbert crossed his arms. The blonde jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “I said,  _ aren’t you?” _

A sigh left those pale lips, and reluctantly, Gilbert nodded. “Ja. Sorry, Toni. I could have sworn I had the right date. ...But I still say this whole thing is stupid.”

“Stupid or not, we have to come up with enough money to send with those men.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Alright, I know we don’t have the total amount, so here’s what we’re going to do. Gil, grab that paper and get ready to write. I don’t care if it’s on the back, the bottom, the margins, or wherever else you can fit it.” He opened the chest at the end of Francis’ cot and tossed a small inkpot at him, brow twitching a little bit. The albino caught it and went out to the table. “Francis, I need you to scour every inch of this place. Get all the money you can and put it in a purse; I’ll be out with Gilbert if you need me.”

Once the man nodded and got to work, he stepped out to the main room. Gilbert had a quill and weighted the paper down, ready to write. The man looked up for guidance; he was no coward, far from it, but diplomacy was never his strong suit. Francis could talk sweet, but he wasn’t always as straightforward as they needed. For matters like this, Antonio was the best person to go to.

“Now,” he said, “You’re going to write down everything as I say.”

{...}

“How?” Francis later asked. “How in the world do you think a letter like  _ that _ is going to convince a man like  _ him?” _

Antonio shook his head, biting into the flour cake the Frenchman had insisted making. His gaze was somewhere to the left of Gilbert’s head, the latter of whom was resting on one of the chairs, feet up on the table. Normally Francis might have scolded him for it, but the Spaniard didn’t think anyone had the energy for it. “He’s a person of money,” he replied calmly, blinking and refocusing his gaze on the blond. “Isn’t that why he’s pursuing us as he is? I mean, Gilbert destroyed a lot; he could have very well just executed him and be done with the problem. But instead, he put us out on a loan, and as long as we pay him back, we’ll be fine.”

“So you mean he’s greedy,” Gilbert broke in. Again, the brunet shook his head.

“No. It means he cares about money. That’s all. So, a negotiation like what I proposed might work. At least… I’m really hoping it does.”

Francis walked over to him and grasped his shoulder, squeezing gently. “So do I, Toni. I don’t know what we’ll do if he does otherwise.”

He tried for a small smile. “Well… What Vash wants, Vash gets, one way or another. All we can hope for is that what he wants, he's willing to wait for."


	3. Before Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, classes are shit, lol. I'll try to get the next one up in a more timely fashion. In the meantime, he on the lookout for a Frain (France x Spain) oneshot and the debut of a RusLiet chapter fic. See y'all then!

Things were quiet. The next few days were a mess of them scrounging up as much money as they possibly could, praying that the guards wouldn’t come back. So it was with great relief that the next person to knock on their door was a messenger and not a man with a sword on his hip. It seemed Antonio’s proposition, no matter how hairbrained, had actually worked.

Payments. Not payment, but payment _s,_ and that was exactly what they needed. A spread out plan where _maybe_ they’d actually have the chance to pay back everything that had been destroyed. It was much better than the alternative.

The three of them were so busy, in fact, that for that short time, Antonio forgot all about the fairy he had met in the forest. But memories are hardly ever lost. Laying in bed the fourth night since the meeting, his arms were tucked under his head and he stared into the dark, not a hint of sleep in his body. Every time he blinked he saw the image of Lovino burned into his eyelids, the touch of his hand itching at his forearm.

Lovino had been one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. That much was certain. He wanted to see him again, and again, and again and again and again and again and….

With a soft groan he shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes. It didn’t alleviate anything. If anything, it simply replayed the encounter, the images moving across his mind with alarming speed. The other two in the room didn’t so much as stir at the sound, thankfully.

Antonio dropped his hands to his side. He turned his head, just barely able to see the outlines of his friends from the moonlight streaming in the window. Their chests moved steadily. Suddenly, an idea sprouted in his thoughts and took root, holding him fast in the utter insanity of it and the complications that could arise. Dangerous, not really. But secretive, yes. Elusive. Bearing heavy consequences. And yet, he couldn’t find himself finding any real reason _not_ to take the chance.

Francis and Gilbert were asleep. They were as good as dead to the world, and they would be for a long time, for hours still. Without all the fumbling in the dark, surely, _surely_ Antonio could find that fairy circle again. If he was fast, he could go out and be back by the time the sun rose, or at least have come up with some excuse for why he didn’t wait before leaving to hunt. There was also the matter of the guards and how certain they were of his routine. It might seem strange for him to suddenly change.

Minutes ticked by as he continued to contemplate the dilemma. From the beginning, however, he knew he was going to go through with it, so maybe it was all for show. Perhaps he was just hoping to convince himself that he wasn’t thinking of abandoning his friends for a creature he still wasn’t quite sure hadn’t been a hallucination from the heat of the day and his lack of nutrition. Whatever it was, he kept watching the other two, hardly breathing, for quite a time before finally sitting up. After pulling on his boots, Antonio heaved himself off of the low cot, his back popping in protest at moving so late in the night. With soft footsteps he tread out of the small room.

The night before he had talked to Francis. He had taken into account the heat of the days and had requested that perhaps, if he was so intent on making sure he ate, perhaps he could cook his flour cake the night before. That way he couldn’t refuse, and he could also leave sooner. In the face of helping his friend the Frenchman had eagerly agreed; the cake lay on the table, ready for him. It gave Antonio pause. There were two choices here now. Either he left the cake and made sure he returned home before anyone woke up, or he took it and feigned the will of catching the animals before the sun could even begin to heat the earth. It was a firm strategy- that he be awake as the animals were just beginning to be, and catch them the moment they started to move around. It wasn’t a bad strategy for his friends, either.

His hand hesitated over the flour cake before scooping it up. His other hand slipped his quiver over his head and his bow over his shoulder. From the side of the hearth he grabbed the dead flower that was to guide him to Lovino and tucked it into his quiver. It would be of no use until he was actually out in the forest, where it would make a difference. Heading out the door, he made sure to shut it softly, the click of the latch sliding into place. Then, with a gait that practically spelled determination, he started for the gate, the faintest of smiles tugging up his quiet expression.

{...}

Surprisingly, the guards didn’t give him as much of a hard time as he was expecting. They simply asked what he was doing and he told them that he wanted to get out before the heat of the day woke and subsequently scared off the prey. Antonio had never lied to them before, so they suspected nothing, signalling for the gates to open just enough for him to walk through. The heavy wood shut once he was out of the way. He only spared a single glance over his shoulder at it before heading into the tree line.

Figuring Lovino would be in the king’s forest again, Antonio headed that way. For the first time in a long time, and despite his current financial situation, he felt hopeful. Surely, surely he would be able to see the fairy again. After so many tales from his mother, the legends he had believed for the longest time, the dreams he had had as a child… There was no way he could have only met the creature once. He had to see him more, had to _know_ more.

The ground passed under his feet, his eyes always directed towards where he had seen Lovino. Upon crossing the ravine, he pulled out the flower from his quiver. Strangely, the petals were already beginning to unravel, the shriveled, brown edges shimmering with the faintest of greens. A grin curled his lips up. Disregarding the danger of someone hearing him, or angering some sort of wild creature, Antonio held the fauna out in front of him and started running through the woods.

It was more than just the destination, he realized. He hadn’t had this much fun in the woods for far too long, always worried about food and shelter and what the two back in the town were doing. He could remember climbing the trees as a child while his mother collected herbs to make their modest food taste just a little bit better. Most of the time it ended with him scraping up some part of himself, but it was always okay, because he swore he could smell the forest on himself for a week after and not the deplorable, choking smoke from their tiny little fire. Running like this… It was freeing.

The further he went, the more vibrant the flower grew. He watched emerald green seep back into the stem, the sunshine yellow color the pollen inside, and the brightest of blues paint the bells again until he swore he had picked it naught but five minutes ago, if even that.

His smile grew when he saw the ring of mushrooms. Antonio didn’t so much as pause, stepping over the ring, hurrying towards the sounds of the river as it became audible. Sure enough, when he came to the treeline, he was greeted with the sight of Lovino. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, as the fairy was sitting on the ground and dragging his finger in the dirt, but he didn’t really care. No… That was a lie. He _did_ care, but he didn’t care enough to ask about it right off.

“Lovino!” The fairy’s head whipped up, those gorgeous, shimmering wings fluttering behind him. Antonio quickly pulled off his quiver and his bow, dropping them. He had no intention of using them, not right now, and he hurried over, his face flushed a little from running. The closer he got, the more his heart fluttered in excitement. Not that he paid much attention to that, though.

Irritation formed a wrinkle between Lovino’s brows. He thought it was cute, and hopped on a few stones to get to where he was on the other side of the stream. Plopping down beside him, he made sure to keep a bit of distance between them, just in case the other was still frightened of him. He couldn’t blame him if he was, but it was a well enough precaution. Though considering Lovino answered him instead of bolting, perhaps he wasn’t as scared as he thought.

“Ah… Antonio, was it? So you actually came back, hm?” There was a strange emotion in the other’s eyes. Disbelief, maybe? Antonio wasn’t sure. His fingers drew from the dirt, and when he looked down, the Spaniard couldn’t make anything out of it. It just looked like a bunch of squiggles and doodles, but the lines were precise, as though they had been meant.

His eyes drew back up and he nodded. “Sì, of course I did! Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I would have come back the next day, but you see, we had some trouble, and I didn’t want to-”

“Hold on- _we?”_

He laughed a little and nodded. “Sì, we. My friends and I. We all are really close, and we live in the same house. Francis is French, and he’s blonde with really bright blue eyes, and he cooks for us and he makes sure we have as much food as we can. Gilbert is an albino. He’s got white hair and white skin and red eyes-” He paused, seeing Lovino’s eyes widen a little. Hurriedly, he added, “I know a lot of people think he’s a demon, but he’s not. He really has good intentions for everyone, he’s just a bit… Brash. And he likes beer a little more than he probably should. He works under the blacksmith. It’s the only bit of money we can bring in.”

This seemed to settle him down. Antonio smiled as he saw the fairy’s features relax, cheering again when the next question came. “And what about you? What’s your part in this… Dynamic?”

“Me? Oh, I usually come out and hunt. It’s the best way to get the food that we don’t have the money for. We’re kind of in a tight spot right now, so that’s why I was over here when we met, like I told you, and I’ll go back to the regular forest once the heat dies off and more animals are willing to come out. I don't really want to get caught by any knights or anything because that would mean I would be executed for being on his land, but I don't think anyone is going to cross your ring-”

“Duh. Because no one else is as stupid as you.”

Antonio paused at the interruption. He laughed, lips curling up into a wide smile, unfazed when the fairy didn't seem to join in his revery. To be truthful, he had been rambling. It was a bad habit, probably the reason why he had many friends but only two best friends, seeing as they were the only ones who could stand it when he got on a roll. Still, the brunet didn't seem too upset about it. If anything, the emotion in the beautiful, blemish free face was slight irritation, annoyance. There was no anger, or really even a reproach. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

Leaning over, Antonio gazed at the speckled green eyes. It didn't last long, however, as the fairy shifted uncomfortably and turned his head away.

Unperturbed, the Spaniard instead turned his eyes to those beautiful silken wings. He tried not to let awe enter his voice. “And what about you?” he asked, voice becoming a little softer. “I know almost nothing about you.”

Those dazzling eyes returned to him for just a moment, then turned back to the stream before them. “Uh… Well… I really don't know what you want me to tell you.”

“Anything! Friends, family, your home, what you like…”

“Ah… Well, I have a brother. He's younger than me. _Extremely_ annoying. But…”

He leaned forward. “But…?”

Lovino sighed a little. He reached down and pressed his finger into the dirt again, curling precise, languid patterns into the earth. “But his wings are beautiful. He's- they're huge. Bright yellow, with a little bit of blue at the bottom. A swallowtail is what he takes after. Our grandfather, he says they're made of happiness itself, and he used to tell us that my brother was the sun and I was the sky. Y’know, never to be separated and all the shit.” He gave a bit of a laugh, the sound ringing delightfully in Antonio’s ears. “I would always as him, ‘but Nonno!! What about when nightime comes? We aren't together then!’ And he would always laugh and ruffle my hair and tell me that my brother needed the rest; that I was the strong one, the restless one.”

The strangest smile curled up Lovino’s lips. The other man didn't know what that meant. It didn't make much sense, not to him, but he definitely didn't like the way through fairy’s emotions were displayed so openly. It was too easy to see that for some reason, that tale upset him. Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, not backing down even when he flinched. It was only to be expected, of course. Their kinds were likely never meant to mix, and yet here they were, speaking so evenly, as though it was the weather they were discussing, and not two completely separate galaxies.

“Aw, cheer up. He sounds wonderful! Very wise, too, I think.” The fairy snorted, and Antonio’s smile grew just a little bit more. “Whaaaaaat?” he drug out. “That sounded so poetic! How can you blame me for thinking that when you put it so eloquently?”

Lovino brushed the hand off his shoulder. It was a little callous, yes, but for some reason, the Spaniard didn't think it was meant that way. “If you're going to talk nonsense, it'd be a great relief if you could leave.”

Ah- this would be a little trickier than he thought. “Alright… Then what are you doing there?” He pointed at the dirt and the curving lines, finally letting himself attach his attention to it.

“That? It’s just a spell. Can't you read?” When Antonio blinked at him, the fairy sighed. “I'm guessing you can't read it, can you?” A shake of his head. “That's what I thought. It's in the Olde Tongue, a language passed down for many centuries. Basically, this is a protection spell. I'm not old enough to wield any magic more powerful than simple things with water, but I'm going to learn a lot. Like, a shit ton, alright?”

A laugh bubbled once again from Antonio. “Why water? Is that a thing all fairies do?”

“Hell no. We each have our own thing. Mine is water. My brother’s is cooking, Nonno’s is fighting… Everyone has something different.” His lips tugged up bitterly. “Just my luck to have the absolutely fucking lamest one there is.”

Antonio didn't know what to say to that. He was learning, just a little bit, about fairies, and who was he to dictate if a skill was impressive or not? Even if the bubbles of water he had seen Lovino drink from the last time had left him enchanted, even if he wondered about his other tricks, he had no right to console someone he didn't understand the full measure of.

...Or the person he still planned to kill.

Shaking the unpleasant thought from his head, he reached into his pocket. From it he produced the flour cake. “I know it isn't much,” he said, breaking the small thing in two. “But I haven't actually eaten yet, and it seems rude of me not to share.” The subject change went uncontested. Lovino held his hand out as the little pastry was placed in his palm, and he poked it a little bit, unsure. “What's the matter?”

“What _is_ this?”

Antonio grinned a bit. “Flour, water, a tiny bit of honey, all fried on a pan. It isn't much, but it’s what Francis can cook us all right now.” He watched the delicate, slim fingers curl around the unappetizing lump. Not a single word more passed between them as Lovino bit down into it. His nose scrunched up and his lips puckered; obviously he wasn't used to something like this. He didn't look too amused by the Spaniard’s laughter, either.

“How in fuck’s name can you eat this?” he demanded, face still screwed up. “This is the most bland, boring, tasteless, pasty, hard to swallow thing I've ever had! It’s disgusting!”

“Lo siento,” Antonio chuckled. “It’s all we have.”

“...Don't bring it again. Next time you come, I'll have food. And it'll be _good_ food. Got it?”

Antonio lifted his hands in surrender, smiling. “Got it.” Despite how much the other hated it, he was amused to see Lovino try to eat the rest of the cake. At least he was polite, if quite vulgar anyway. And what was more? The fairy was already talking of another visit. How terribly, wonderfully cute. 


	4. Royalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! School was just getting out, so now that summer is here, I should be able to bring more updates! Stay tuned!

In a word, Lovino was confused.

In more than a word, he had no idea what in the hell was going on. After the first initial meeting with Antonio, he doubted the man would come back, or that he would do so with enough men to kill him or a plan to do the same. And yet nothing had happened. The two of them had sat and talked by the river for a long time instead, talking about frivolous things.

Antonio had never asked anything too personal, so he didn't ask in return, keeping the curiosity that burned in his chest to himself. It was the only time he had ever seen a human. Sure, his grandfather had spoken about them from time to time, but usually it was issued as a warning, guarding him and his brother against doing something stupid or from accidentally straying into the human world. It had never actually been anything informative. Perhaps that was why he was so attracted to this… Human. He wanted to know, hell, he _needed_ to know. He couldn't find another way around it.

After all, it wasn't like he was going to meet another human anytime soon.

His questions would have to wait, however. The simple things they spoke of wasn't enough to break the barriers between them, no matter how hard it was to tell the stranger of his way of life. When daybreak was approaching, Antonio stood and declared the necessity to head home. To Lovino, it didn't sound like much of a home, but he couldn't say that he cared _too_ much. What happened outside of his perception of life was none of his business, and he was happy enough to let the human go. There wasn't much of a farewell; awkwardness still hung in the air despite the man's cheerful disposition, and Lovino couldn't say that he tried to remedy the problem.

And just like that, Antonio was gone. He watched the figure disappear into the woods, the flower that was tucked into the quiver slowly dying as he moved away. He stayed still, hardly breathing, until he was sure that the man was gone. Then, he ran.

Suddenly, the spell of the human was broken. The magic without magic had disappeared, and he realized with a startle that he wasn't actually supposed to be out in the forest like this. He was supposed to be back home, in his bed, arising with the sun just like usual.

This was most definitely _not_ good.

Lovino dodged through the trees. Light filtered through the leaves, bursting out through the foliage like pinpricks of warmth, his wings fluttering behind him. They glimmered in the sun like enormous jewels, the delicate membranes reflecting those rays as they allowed him to run faster, dodge quicker, and glide gracefully down any ledges or dips that he came across.

The world dimmed faintly when he passed the ring he had made, the mushrooms wilting without his presence. Paying them no attention, he followed his ears until he came to a roaring waterfall. It was beautiful, cascading off sparkling white rocks, heading a river that cut sharply to the left after gathering in a large pool. Lovino paused only for a moment to curse at himself; the sun was above the tree line. There was no way his grandfather wouldn't know by now.

Running a hand through his hair, he hurried to the side of the waterfall. There didn't appear to be any space between the rock and the wall, but the fairy knew better. Rocks bulged out of the water there, spaced just far enough apart that it would be difficult for any human to leap from one to the next without falling in. Fairies had no trouble with them. A flutter of their wings and they could be across no problem, but Lovino hated that. It seemed so… Unnecessary.

He reached out a hand. The soft bond that he felt between himself and any body of water strengthened as he focused on it; when his fingers turned and pushed away, the liquid went with it, draining away a good foot or two from the edge of the cliff. A small pathway appeared, barely six inches wide, carved from the cliff. Lovino's hand stayed out to the side and he closed his wings. A little hop and he was on the walkway; his steps were light all the way across. Grace came to him easily, but it wasn't a constant. In fact, he was usually quite clumsy, only so smooth when he was calm. Or, calm enough that he could keep a level head.

The walkway began to narrow, but Lovino ignored it. He came to the section in which it was too narrow to walk on anymore, the stone cutting into the path… But just took another step.

The shape of the rock wavered. Like a mirage on a hot summer day, the rock that seemed to be there wasn't at all. Of all the talents Lovino had seen displayed in the kingdom, the fairies that held dominion over illusions were some of the most important he knew. They hid them, kept them safe, provided protection for the king and his family, and all manner of other things. Perhaps their most recognized role was that of creating the balls that were so frequently held, so widely popular. Whatever the core of it was, Lovino wished he could have been like them. Instead he was stuck with _water_.

He kept going, angling in ever so slightly until by the time he reached the actual waterfall, there was plenty of room for him to walk behind the curtain of water without so much as a drop getting on his wings. The water roared beside him; Lovino reached his hand straight through the illusion of the rock to touch a wooden door. He rapped his knuckles on it.

"Who's there?"

The voice that answered was light and smooth. A hint of an accent clung to the words, but Lovino simply rolled his eyes, unaffected. "It's me," he called back. "Open the damn door."

That was another thing about this door. It was hidden, sure, but without a key or someone opening it from the inside, there was no way for anyone to gain entry. Nothing was invincible, of course, but it provided a lot of safety. With a soft click, the handleless door swung out, just past Lovino. Inside stood another fairy. He wore an irritated expression, arms crossed over his hips. Golden, tousled hair sat above downturned brows. His shirt was tight, unlike Lovino's, deep emerald in color with many pockets. Brown pants were tucked into darker brown boots. A long sword hung at his hip, and he knew without searching that there was a dagger in one of the boots, and perhaps a vial or two of poison in an inside pocket of the jacket.

"His majesty is going to have your hide," the man hissed. His wings that sported varying hues of green fluttered uneasily, giving the younger a flash of a look at the opposite sides- and the quite frankly dull chestnut that were almost always hidden. It echoed the appearance of a green hairstreak butterfly, one that the fairy had told him about, but not one the Italian had ever personally seen. One one arm was hung a dazzling article of clothing, which was thrust towards Lovino.

He took it and quickly shrugged it on, the vest imbued with jade cloth and black embroidery that reflected his wings, shiny obsidian buttons aligned to the right open edge that easily slipped through their opposing holes. "Calm down, Arthur," he said sharply. "We can explain this. Or- you can. If you don't tell him the fucking truth this time around." Arthur's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, but the younger shook his head and spoke before he could. "And don't tell me that it was 'for my own good'. It was because you didn't want to lie. You're shit at spinning tales; exactly the reason Nonno hired you, I guess."

Patting the pommel of his sword and consequently the sigil of the royal family, Arthur nodded. "And because I'm the best you could have with you if a fight or assassination attempt occurred. But ignoring all of that, come on. We have to get you back to the palace." Lovino held out his hand again. From one of the pockets in his pants, Arthur pulled out two silver bracelets, each about four inches wide with a split down the underside. He took them and slipped them over his hands, fixing them in place. One each, saphire was inlaid into the same crest as lay on the pommel- the outline of a flower cut into by a large, cursive 'V'.

Arthur only waited to make sure that everything was in order, then jerked his head to the side. Lovino fell into step behind him. He couldn't help the way his heart pounded in his chest; this wasn't exactly the first time he had snuck out. Arthur didn't seem too concerned, but that was only natural. If Romulus was to confine him to the castle or to his room, that would mean an easier job for the guard. There would be consequences for him as well, but as a general rule, the blond was let off easier. Lovino could understand it; Arthur didn't have too much of a choice if he decided to really play up his title.

Which was exactly what had happened this time around.

Passing through the door had placed them inside of a cave. It was small, but it held the waterfall on top and therefore guarded their home. Emerging into a vast field, Arthur held out his hand; trying not to cringe, Lovino placed his own in it and began running with him until they lifted from the ground. Arthur held much of his weight and stayed higher to aid that way, a fact the younger man hated but had to deal with, and they flew straight towards the tall walls that enclosed the capital city. They returned to their feet a couple dozen feet from the entrance. Upon reaching the front gates, the guards that were dressed similarly to Arthur but with plated metal armor simply waved them through.

The two of them entered to the marketplace and wound their way up. Stalls were set up and were calling prices on things, gold and silver coins passing hands at a rate too quick to keep track of accurately. Hammering and tinkering came from the buildings behind them as the various blacksmiths, wares, tailors, and other businesses were busy running their trade. The fairies there only slightly bowed when they saw Lovino at the left hand of his guard, too used to his frequent outings into the lower town to be awfully bothered to show complete difference. He didn't mind. He didn't see any reason that they should be obligated to show deep respect when he hadn't done a whole lot to earn it yet. They did clear a path for them to pass through, though, which was pretty nice, and allowed them to speed up some. The sooner they arrived the better, while at the same time there wasn't much more damage they could do considering the sun was up fully and the others would have already eaten breakfast.

Soon the castle loomed before them. Glittering white stone stood tall against the blue sky, the courtyard busy with cooks, servants, stableboys, hunters, and all manner of other palace workers. This time, these fairies paid absolutely no attention as the duo made their way up the stairs and into the building. Scents of all kinds came from the direction of the kitchens. Flowers were set in ornate vases in little alcoves, the floral aroma mixing in, and tapestries hung on the walls that told the history of the castle and the royal family. He knew them all, though not by name. It had been a point to his educators, yes, but having not thought them all that important, Lovino focused on the stories themselves and not the titles of them.

Lovino took the stairs two at a time, hurrying up the the dining room. His feet were not the only ones that clicked over the great hall just before, his eyes glancing over the vast range of servants, knights, and guards that occupied the space. The hall ended in a set of large doors, adorned with intricate designs carved into the dark wood, the patterns curling, no sharp corners in sight. He pushed down on the silver handles and shoved open the doors. For a fleeting moment, he felt like he was king already, his entrance grant and dramatic- and one that Arthur rolled his eyes at. Not that he really cared, of course. He could do as he please, for the most part.

A long table was set up with enough chairs to sit not only his family, but the neighboring kingdom's royal family as well. It was clear, though, with not a trace of food or drop of drink. And at the head of it, leaning back in the low backed chair, chin in his palm, was his grandfather.

King Romulus.

Arthur left his side then. He moved to stand near the doors after he had shut them; the castle knew of these frequent lectures, but that didn't mean they needed to hear everything that was to be said.

Romulus didn't look up from where his gaze was fixed on a knot in the table, his lips set into a hard line. Lovino knew that mouth to much prefer a smile than a frown, but he also couldn't blame the man, either. He had disobeyed the man yet again. Clasping his hands behind his back and keeping his wings still as though movement would aggravate the king even more, he waited, head held high, unrepentant for his actions.

"Tell me, please," Romulus spoke at last. His eyes drew up to meet his grandson's, his voice low, much quieter than usual. Beautiful, translucent red wings shifted as the king tried to keep himself calm. Black tainted the edges, splattering in, and Lovino couldn't remember ever seeing a butterfly or other creature with quite the same type of markings as that. Romulus had always been different. "What is that you want from me? You act out, you spoil your reputation, you discredit mine, and you put yourself in danger."

Lovino cocked his head to the side by a few degrees. His jade irises glimmered in defiance. "I'm not going to-"

Romulus raised his hand to shut him up. Despite the young man's wishes to do exactly opposite as he was told, he knew when to be quiet. Standing, he lowered his fingers to the table, pressing against the wood. "I'm not finished. This is the third time this month that you've snuck out. The _third time_. I don't even know where you're going! For all I know, you could be out there, running around in the _human_ kingdom!" He spat the word like poison, tossing it to the floor with all too much care.

Lovino couldn't blame him. He didn't know all the reasons why the fairy didn't like humans, but it was clear from the way he spoke of them that he thought the other species as some sort of plague, hurting the land as they took it, conquering and dealing with their people in ways of bloodshed and suffering. There had to be reasons for it… If he didn't know now, he figured eventually he would. He'd find out, whether Romulus liked it or not.

"I wasn't doing anything bad," Lovino replied. As much as he understood (and as much as he was ignoring that understanding) he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. It wasn't exactly a talent of his. "I just wanted to go out to the river!"

"We have rivers here! Where it's safe! And besides, why would you go out before dawn? Lovino, I can't keep doing this with you! The kingdom is going to be yours one day. You need to learn to do what's best for your people, and that does _not_ mean running off every time you have the urge to!"

Vaguely, he heard Arthur shifting by the door. The fairy would agree with everything that was being said, he knew that for sure. After all, he was a man for rules, for staying strictly within the lines of duty, even if that called for drastic or deadly measures. Exactly the reason why he had vials of poison in his vest. Of course, that could also be because the mixing of natural elements was his Talent. All in all, guard and prince were different as night and day in regards to duties and rules, but they were alike in stubbornness and the way they held to their morals. The only good part he could ascribe to Romulus and Arthur having such similar tastes was that once Romulus was done berating him, the guard wouldn't say anything else on the subject. Whatever happened, he didn't need to expect two lectures. One was enough.

Fists clenched so hard he knew there would be crescent shaped imprints left in his palms, Lovino had to force himself not to push back too much. There was only a certain level of disobedience and dissent that he could employ against the older man. "I know!" he shot back. "I'm not stupid! I'm the eldest, I know what my destiny is!" It was inheriting a kingdom he didn't want, given responsibilities he wasn't sure he could fulfil, and speaking for a people that didn't have any faith in him. What a future.

Romulus gave a sigh. He reached up to rub his temples, wings closing behind him, visibly taking deep breaths. "Go to your room and don't leave it," he said after a moment, pointing to the door. "I don't want to see you until we dine for lunch. You've missed one meal today. You won't miss anything." The last sentence was spoken with those golden eyes turned onto Arthur. Lovino didn't need to look to know that he had nodded in agreement. Without saying a word, the prince turned around. Arthur opened one of the doors and it was through it he stormed, paying no mind to the footsteps that echoed almost silently behind him.

His wings fluttered behind him, agitated. Shooting up a flight up stairs, Lovino ducked into the east wing- the prince quarters. The king's bedroom was on the other side of the castle to prevent a mass killing of all the royal family, just in case anyone were to sneak in at night. It heightened the chance of getting at least one member of the family out safely. The two princes were also supposed to have separate bedrooms- and they did- but when Lovino slammed open his door, Feliciano was inside, fiddling with a jacket and a needle, spool of thread beside one of the bare feet crossed on top of the fluffy comforter.

Honeyed irises met jade, and suddenly Lovino was a victim to one of his younger brother's crushing hugs. Only able to give a small 'oof' at the action, he tried not to push the boy away. After all, he was just welcoming him back. And… It wasn't like Feliciano was too opposed to him going out anyway.

Before he could say anything, Feliciano pulled away, though he kept his hands on Lovino's shoulders. Golden wings fluttered as the younger bounced on his heels, the slightest bit translucent, the sun pouring through the window only to be scattered onto the walls and floor. Lovino had never seen wings like his, had never heard of them either, and truly had no way to compare them to. The markings on his wings were black and were in the exact same places and designs as the elder's (another unheard of thing, even if they were family) but still looked like obsidian set into the thin, delicate membranes. Feliciano's vest echoed his brother's, but was made of bright yellow cloth and black embroidery, the buttons just as inky and glossy as the elder's. Silver bracelets were clasped on his arms, the same as Lovino's, but instead of the crest being filled with sapphire, they were citrine gems, sparkling brilliantly.

"Did you get it?" Feliciano asked impatiently. Sweet, honeyed eyes peered into his, and he knew he couldn't resist. As much as he wanted to, as much as he knew the younger was playing him unfairly, he just… Couldn't say no. So with a nod and a sigh, he reached into the pocket of his pants. From it he withdrew a small object.

An arrowhead.

Lovino had broken the wood off of it, but the metal was fine, and it shone in the light. "Careful," he said, passing it over. "The edges are still sharp. I'm not- you're just damn lucky I could find it! Humans don't usually leave their shit lying around, y'know!

Feliciano didn't seem to care about the warning. He did hold it with caution, but he couldn't tell if that was from his own words, or simply because the younger was too smart to be entirely stupid. And yes, he told himself, that statement worked entirely for who Feliciano was. Long, slender fingers ran over the weapon head, so similar and yet so different from their own. Whereas the arrows their guards used were long and slender with the back points curled outwards to make it hard to pull out, the human weapon was more streamlined, more focused on initial penetration than damage upon removal.

"It's amazing," the younger cooed. Holding it up to the light, he didn't bother hiding it from Arthur from where he stood in the back corner. The personal guard was well enough aware of what the brothers did together or for each other. And as much as Lovino knew he hated the outside world almost as much as Romulus, he also knew that he saw no harm in bringing back trinkets when he did sneak out- hence the locked drawer of his nightstand being filled with different items from his adventures. As such, there was not a flinch as Lovino pulled out a leather cord from under his shirt. The sound of metal tinkling echoed in the room as a small key knocked against a silver ring inlaid with a large emerald, smaller diamonds to either side of it.

Taking off the cord and holding both objects secure, he unlocked the drawer. Inside were several objects. A plate of brass, a couple of beads, several tatters of fabric, a worn buckle, and even a crude, battered compass that no longer worked laid inside. Since he had begun the outings to the outside world, Feliciano, unable to convince himself to leave, had begged Lovino to retrieve things for him. It was slow going considering he never got close to the edge of the forest or to any roads, but he couldn't stop once he'd seen his brother's expression light up as it had the first- and every- time he was able to bring something back.

"When you're done looking at it, just make sure to lock it up, got it?"

"Sì, fratello!" he chirped. "Thank you so much! You're the best big brother ever!" Despite the chipper tone to his voice, Lovino knew the other wasn't so innocent as he acted. If he was, not only would he actually _disapprove_ of his older brother's adventures outside their kingdom, he _certainly would not_ ask for souvenirs from them.

He grumbled in reply and moved to the bed. The necklace was placed on top of the nightstand and he flopped down onto his mattress, the soft cushion practically allowing him to melt into it, his head turned to the side on the soft pillows. Eyes closed but feeling the warmth from the window on his eyelids, he wondered vaguely just what he was getting himself into.

And if he'd ever be able to get himself out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now that we have some more world building, feel free to ask questions! If it's something simple, I'll answer via PM, but if it's something important, I'll include it next chapter, either as part of the author's notes or somewhere in the chapter itself.
> 
> Also, if you want to see what the crest looks like, please visit this fic on my fanfiction.net account (under NightWolfie as well) because the cover is what it looks like. It's not the best, and I plan on touching it up a little, but I hope that it helps!


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